


Every Time

by huntressartemis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Cheesy, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas with the Avengers, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Avengers (2012), Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers Feels, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tropes, canon can pry avengers family from my cold dead hands, posted this to the wrong account earlier oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntressartemis/pseuds/huntressartemis
Summary: Collection of Stony fics. Each chapter is independent from the next!Ch 1: Christmas Avengers family
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Thor, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Nick Fury & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 8
Kudos: 176





	Every Time

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, Tony would like to say that it was all Fury’s fault.
> 
> “You want us to go on a _Christmas retreat_?” Tony asked incredulously. “We’re the _Avengers_ , not the Brady Bunch.”
> 
> In which Natasha will fight you for the window bed, Thor is confused by s'mores, and Tony Stark is _not_ a cuddler. He's _not_!

For the record, Tony would like to say that it was all Fury’s fault.

“You want us to go on a _Christmas retreat_?” Tony asked incredulously. “We’re the _Avengers_ , not the Brady Bunch.”

“I think it’ll be a good exercise in team bonding. And get you out of my ass for the next few days,” Fury said, glowering at them. Which, to be fair, was maaaybe _slightly_ warranted. 

“I didn’t know the new arrows Tony made for me were going to be _that_ explosive, honest,” Clint said earnestly. “And the sprinkler system put out the fire real fast.”

Nick Fury did not look swayed by this reasoning.

“Look, I have a lot of shit to get done over the next few days, and I don’t wanna have to be constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure you haven’t destroyed the entire east wing or some shit,” Fury said, glaring at each of them.

“Over your right shoulder, right? ‘Cause it would be kinda hard to look over your left shoulder because of the eye patch,” Tony added helpfully. “You could do it, but you’d have to turn a lot more, and that sounds pretty exhausting.”

“Get the fuck out of here and go take a goddamn vacation.”

So they went on a Christmas retreat.

And, of course, because Tony was the resident billionaire genius playboy philanthropist, _he_ was the one who had to provide the location for their little shindig.

On the bright side, he had a nice, cozy little cabin that just _screamed_ idyllic holiday retreat that would do the job perfectly. On the down side, the cabin only had three bedrooms.

“Wow, this is awesome! Damn, wish I had money like this,” Clint said, awed as he looked around the expansive log cabin with its tall, roaring fireplace and comfy rustic furniture. To one side, there was a stairway that led to the second floor, which was mostly just storage, though it had a balcony that overlooked the living room.

“Dad liked to hunt – or, well, to bring his business associates out so that they could all posture and argue over whose rifle was the biggest,” Tony said breezily, crossing the threshold, and Clint snickered. The others followed close behind, shutting the heavy oak doors behind them.

“Ah, my shield brothers on Asgard and I also compare the sizes and merits of our weapons. It is a time-honored tradition of great importance,” Thor boomed, and Clint and Tony made eye contact and simultaneously looked away, holding in laughter. Giggles would undoubtedly tip Cap off that something was up, and Tony didn’t feel like explaining dick jokes to Captain America. As it was, Bruce was giving them a reproving look, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Right, well. There’s three bedrooms, so we’re all going to have to double up,” Tony instructed, and Clint immediately grabbed Natasha, to no one’s surprise.

“Dibs!” he called, then the two spies dashed off down the hall. Or, well, Clint dashed. Tony didn’t think Natasha could do something as undignified as dashing if her life depended on it. No, no, she _sashayed rapidly_.

Before Tony could reach for Bruce and declare that science bros should be roomies, Thor reached out and clapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Friend Banner, would you do me the honor of sharing quarters with me? I would know more of your green friend and how he came to be. His strength is quite impressive!”

“Uh,” Bruce said, looking uncomfortable – Tony was pretty sure the Hulk’s, er, _creation_ was a sore subject for him – but he just shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

“Excellent!” Thor boomed, and Tony would swear he could hear a soft roll of thunder echoing the god. Thor and Bruce also set off, dragging their luggage with them.

And then there were two.

“Guess that means it’s us, then,” Cap said with a small, shy smile that made Tony’s stomach flip. Well, shit.

“Yup, looks like it,” he said as flippantly as he could muster, pasting on a cocky smile and leading the way down the hall. “I’ll try to keep the innuendos to a minimum to preserve your delicate forties sensibilities, but no promises,” he called over his shoulder with a wink, but Steve just rolled his eyes. Well, damn, Tony was going to have to up his game if Cap was that used to him already.

The first door they passed had what sounded like the Black Widow speaking in soft but dangerous Russian that, from what Tony could discern, was a veritable threat against Hawkeye’s liver and kidneys if he tried to take the window bed away from her.

The second door they passed, Tony heard Bruce’s nervous voice muffled through the door saying, “Thor I don’t think it’s a good idea to – “ followed by a resounding crash. Steve looked alarmed, but Tony shook his head.

“Best not to ask,” he said sagely, walking faster to the last door. Which, of course, would be the very room he did _not_ want, because God hated him that way or something. Fuck.

“So it looks like we’re in the master bedroom,” Tony said, throwing open the last door at the end of the hall. Steve followed him in, eyes raking over the oak dressers, the carved desk, the simple furniture, and the king-sized bed.

Bed. As in singular.

Yeah, Tony hated Fury right now. Because sharing a bed with his childhood-crush-turned-reluctant-attraction-turned-full-blown-crush was one of his worse ideas, and it wasn’t even _his idea_.

Tony was going to tell Fury that, too, when he was inevitably called to the pirate’s office for traumatizing Captain America by springing an awkward boner.

“Oh, are we sharing a bed?” Steve asked casually, with none of the horror and pearl-clutching that Tony had expected, striding across the room and tossing his duffel bag on one side of the bed. Tony took a second to pick his jaw up off the floor, affect a disaffected demeanor, and saunter over.

“Yup. Don’t feel bad if you end up getting handsy during the night in your sleep. Happens to the best of us, and I’ve been told I’m particularly irresistible,” Tony tossed out, setting his suitcase beside the other side of the bed, giving Steve a smarmy smile.

Finally, he got the response he expected when Steve blushed, ears turning bright red. Maybe Tony wasn’t losing his touch after all. “I’ll keep to my side of the bed,” he promised stiffly. “Had to share beds with boys in basic all the time, and they certainly weren’t as big as this one.”

“They weren’t? Well that’s a damn shame, I like my boys as big as I can get ‘em. 10 inches is the minimum.”

Steve made a choking sound, and Tony smirked. “I thought you said you were going to keep the innuendos to a minimum,” Steve protested, sounding mortified, and Tony shrugged, grinning cheekily.

“I am.”

“That’s terrifying,” Steve muttered darkly under his breath, but Tony still heard him and smiled winningly before swanning out of the room.

“Hey, Stark, what’s a guy gotta do to get some booze around here?” Clint called from what Tony would bet was the living room. He walked through the halls, rounding the corner to see Clint sprawled across one couch, Natasha perched on the arm, and Thor sprawled over another, while Bruce was curled up in the chair closest to the fire.

“We’re not drinking, we’re bonding!” Steve called back firmly as Tony flopped down beside Thor.

“I’m pretty sure the booze helps with the bonding,” Tony pointed out, and Steve crossed his arms, giving him the Disappointed Captain America Look™. But Tony’d been faced the Disappointed Howard Stark Look™ and come out on top, so it wasn’t all that effective. Except that it kind of was. Because it was _Steve_. Goddammit. “Fine, fine, no booze. _Yet_ ,” Tony grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly as Steve grinned in triumph.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Ugh, c’mon man, why do you have to fold _every time_ Captain America bats his eyelashes at you.”

“You’re just jealous you’re not pretty enough for that to work,” Natasha commented, and Clint shot her an affronted look. 

“I’ll have you know I am _very_ pretty and there are _many_ people who would – “

“Maybe we should focus on our actual goals here,” Bruce interrupted mildly, and Clint huffed but subsided.

“Right.” Tony paused. “Which are what exactly?”

“Bonding,” Steve said firmly, still looming in all his righteous glory, looking like he was about to start shooting red, white, and blue rainbows out of his ass despite being dressed down in jeans and a sweatshirt. “We’re bonding. Tony, do you have a spot where we could make a campfire?”

“Yeah, Cap, but it’s like 20 degrees out and there’s snow over everything. All the wood will be wet,” Tony said dubiously, but Steve only smiled.

Twenty minutes later, Tony and the rest of the team were watching with no small amount of awe as Steve got a roaring fire blazing in the backyard.

“You sure you’re not secretly a wizard?” Clint asked, squinting at him, and Steve beamed. It should be illegal for someone to be that gorgeous. No really, Steve should be arrested, it wasn’t fair to humanity.

“Had lots of practice with the Howlies,” Steve said with a bashful shrug.

“Your former shield brothers?” Thor asked curiously, and Steve’s face closed off, but he nodded. Thankfully, Thor was adept enough at social cues to keep from pressing further – but the damage was done, and Steve was looking like someone had just kicked his puppy, and that just wouldn’t stand. Bald eagles would start crying or something.

 _Splat_.

Tony wasn’t sure who was more surprised that he’d pelted Captain America with a snowball: Steve or himself. Steve stared at him in shock for a moment, and Tony froze, fight or flight instincts leaning heavily towards _flight_.

“Snowball fight!” Clint screeched, grinning manically as he reached down and packed the snow together before launching at Thor, who looked affronted when the snowball crumbled to pieces against his broad chest. And then it was _on_. 

Thor, though Tony was fairly sure he hadn’t ever been involved in a snowball fight before, picked up the general idea fairly quickly. Grinning wildly, he let out a war cry, launching snowballs at everyone he could see. Natasha and Clint formed an alliance immediately, watching each other’s backs as they made a little mound to hide behind, and Tony sought cover behind a convenient large rock.

He peeked over the top of the rock to see Thor storming Clint and Nat’s snow fortress, while Steve aimed at Bruce.

“Oh, no no no!” Bruce called, holding his hands up. “Unless you want the Big Guy to come out and play, you better not hit me with any of those!”

“Aw come on, Brucie, let Green Bean have some fun,” Tony whined, then realized his mistake as Steve whirled around and set his sights on Tony, eyes narrowing. “Oh shit,” he squeaked, turning and running, grabbing handfuls of snow as he went and packing them quickly.

He was overrun by Steve in an embarrassingly short time, but the guy was a _super soldier_ , thank you very much. Against any _normal_ person he’d have been able to hold his own. Really.

He heard Steve’s footsteps getting close and turned to see the super soldier hot on his heels. Desperately, he threw his arsenal, hitting Steve in his impressive chest and abs. This, unsurprisingly, did not stop Steve.

Tony turned on his heel to start running again only for Steve to snag the back of his sweatshirt and drop a _shit ton of icy cold snow_ down his back. Tony shrieked, wiggling and turning around to give Steve an accusing glare and a piece of his mind, but their momentum made them off balance and then they were falling, falling, falling, until Tony was on his back in the snow, Steve hovering over him.

“Got you,” Steve said, a smug smirk on his face, and Tony was wide-eyed and breathless and _oops his mind was really not supposed to go there_. Clearly expecting some sort of snappy response, Steve’s expression started to change as Tony held quiet, to turn confused, and Tony quickly pulled himself together.

“Captain, if you wanted me on my back, you could’ve just asked,” he quipped, waggling his eyebrows salaciously. Steve snorted, though his ears and cheeks were bright red, strangely enough. Huh. The cold must be getting even to Human Furnace Steve Rogers.

“I’m not sure I believe that you’re really trying to hold back any of your innuendos,” Steve said wryly.

“I’ll have you know I’m a man of my word, Cap,” Tony said solemnly.

Steve shook his head and smiled fondly. “Sure, Tony.” He stood up, then offered Tony a hand, which Tony took, and they clambered back to the rest of the group. The fight had devolved to Natasha, Clint. and Thor all giggling and throwing snowballs at each other with impunity. Tony wasn’t sure when Clint and Natasha’s alliance had died or how, but they weren’t holding back on each other now, the two spies doing all sorts of bendy things to dodge snowballs and Thor aiming with what was probably excess force.

“You will fall before the wrath of my icy spheres!” Thor roared, and thunder boomed.

“No chance, Thunderbritches,” Clint yelled back from where he was perched on a tree, aiming and nailing Thor on one large bicep. Tony and Steve looked at each other, shrugged, and joined the fray, the snowball fight devolving into more of a snowball chase, and Tony, being the only untrained, poor, pitiful human with no master assassin skills, bearing the brunt of the cold, snowy pain.

“I wanna call a time out!” Tony finally cried through his giggles, soaked to the bones and shivering.

“There are no time outs in war!” Clint called, throwing a snowball, but Tony saw it and ducked – and it nailed Natasha right in the face.

The whole backyard when still and silent, the snow dripping slowly off Natasha’s blank expression, and Clint looked terrified.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to – “

“You will pay for this, Clinton Barton,” Natasha said calmly, and Clint looked like he was about to wet himself.

“Ooookay, before Nat eviscerates Clint and sells his organs on the black market, how about we call a truce and share a victory feast,” Tony suggested quickly. “I’m sure I’ve got some s’mores stuff in the house.”

And, thankfully, he did. 

And if he took a really warm shower and changed into dry clothes while he was fetching them, well, that was the advantage of being the host.

Twenty minutes later, they were gathered around the crackling fire, stars twinkling in the midnight sky overhead as they held their marshmallows over the flames. The mood had mellowed, the earlier frenzy of laughter and playfulness fading into something more serene. Natasha and Clint were whispering to one another, probably plotting world domination or maybe fighting over which of Clint’s organs Natasha was allowed to take as penance for hitting her in the face with a snowball.

“I do not understand,” Thor was whispering to Bruce. “You warm these puffy clouds over the fire then place them on top of chocolate and crackers? This seems a strange dish, even for Midgard.”

“That’s just what a s’more is, buddy,” Bruce whispered back.

Tony smiled to himself, feeling strangely warm and content as he looked around at their ragtag little group. He hadn’t had friend groups like this growing up, always too small and too smart and too _everything_ for his own good. Rhodey had been his singular friend in college, and then Tony had entered the business world, where friendship was a liability. Pepper and Happy were his friends, now, but they’d never really formed a _group_ , mostly just seeing each other when it was required by their respective jobs, which was the majority of most days. Jobs he’d given them. He’d always wondered what it would be like to be part of a group of friends, and it was... _nice_.

“Careful, your marshmallow’s on fire,” Steve warned, a smile in his voice, and Tony drew his mind back to the present in time to notice that his marshmallow was, indeed, burning. Tony drew it off the fire quickly blowing the flames out, but his marshmallow was already scorched. He shrugged.

“Good thing I like mine toasty,” he said with a smile, and Steve smiled back.

“You looked lost in thought. What were you thinking about?” Steve asked, and the firelight flickered against his face, shadows dancing around the warmth.

“The team,” Tony replied honestly, and Steve raised an eyebrow. “Just...it’s nice, being out here together. I like it.”

And Steve smiled so happily at that, like Tony had given him the world, that Tony could only stare stupidly. “Me too,” Steve said quietly, eyes dancing with a pleasure that Tony felt like was reserved for only him in this moment. He blinked, trying to shake off these silly thoughts.

“What about you?” he prompted. At Steve’s confused look, he clarified. “What were you thinking about?”

And then he regretted asking, because Steve’s face shuttered.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tony added quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, no,” Steve waved him off with a rueful smile. “I asked you that, after all. I was just thinking about how much this reminds me of nights with the Howlies.”

Tony paused, sucked in a breath. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Steve exhaled, long and loud, turning to stare out over the fire. “It’s just...it’s strange, you know? Sometimes it feels like so much has changed. The foods, the clothes, the people – everything’s so fast and flashy and _loud_. But nights like this, it feels like nothing’s changed at all except for the people I’m sharing it with.”

“Some people would say fast, flashy, and loud is a perfect description of _me_ , Cap,” Tony pointed out, and Steve just quirked his lips into a smile.

“Yeah, but on you, it’s different.”

Tony blinked at him. “How so?”

And then Steve turned to look at him, expression so fond that Tony’s heart stuttered. “You’re willing to slow down and wait for me to catch up.”

And wasn’t that the pathetic truth of the matter; Tony would always wait for Steve. He hoped his face wasn’t showing the constipated sort of pain he was feeling at how close to home those words hit. But Steve was looking at him with those penetrating, kind eyes and a soft, open expression, and Tony just couldn’t _bear it_. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be doing my civic duty if I didn’t slow down long enough to help an old man cross the road,” he joked weakly, and Steve snorted, the moment broken.

“Sure, Tony,” he said, rolling his eyes, though his smile was amused. “Well, it’s getting pretty late. I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” He stood, and Tony stared up at him, sure that his yearning was displayed on his face for all to see.

“An excellent idea, Captain,” Thor boomed out, and Tony turned to see that the rest of the group were looking at him and Cap, Natasha with an inscrutable expression and Clint with a gleeful one. Bruce just looked resigned. “We warriors need to be well rested in case we are called upon for battle.”

“Hopefully that won’t happen while we’re on vacation, Thor, but yeah, we could all do with some rest,” Steve said with a slight smile. And like it was a well-rehearsed cue, they all stood, chattering as they put out the fire, packed up the s’mores materials, and made their way indoors.

Tony had dealt with the disaster waiting to happen that awaited him back in the master bedroom the same way he dealt with every problem that he didn’t have a solution for: by ignoring it and hoping the problem would solve itself in the meantime.

It had not.

So now he was facing down a pajama-clad Steve on one side of the bed, trying to work up the nerve to slide into the other side.

Steve looked up from the book he was reading as Tony came out of the bathroom, smiling at him. “Hey,” he called softly, putting his book aside as Tony padded over to the bed. Tony took one dubious look at the covers, gathered his nerve, and slid between them. And then Steve was _much_ closer, and it was doing bad things to his blood pressure, and really Steve was a hazard to his health, 0/10 should not be allowed to be so perfect.

His preoccupation almost made him miss the rest of what Steve was saying. “I just wanted to say thank you for organizing all of this,” the boy scout was saying earnestly, and Tony blinked owlishly. “You do so much for the team, even with all your obligations to SI, and it really means a lot, Tony. I like knowing that someone else cares about the team as much as I do.”

Compliments from his childhood hero; Tony’s brain was blue-screening, and he was pretty sure Howard was rolling over in his grave. But Steve was waiting expectantly for a response. “It’s no problem, Cap,” he said, aiming for flippant and falling horribly short. He tried again. “I mostly just throw money at people and have them do all the work, anyway.”

But Steve just smiled, a tinge of amusement coloring his expression. “Sure you do, Tony.”

“I do!”

“If you say so.”

Tony huffed, and Steve’s eyes twinkled.

“Good night, Tony.”

“’Night, Cap.”

And they both rolled over, Steve clicking off the lamp on the nightstand and casting the room in darkness. Well, darkness sans Tony’s personal nightlight. Suddenly worried the arc reactor would annoy Steve, he buried himself further under the blankets, trying to cover the glow. Steve didn’t say anything, though, so Tony started to relax. Which then gave him time to start panicking about other things. Like how he could feel Steve’s warmth under the covers. And how Steve’s calf brushed his when he shifted. And how his heart was thundering a hundred miles an hour and Steve could probably hear it.

It was going to be a long night.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“F’ve m’re m’nutes,” Tony mumbled, curling up and cuddling his pillow tighter. Except his pillow was surprisingly less fluffy than he’d expected. In fact, it was kind of not squishy at all. Laughter rumbled, and Tony’s pillow vibrated with it – and Tony’s eyes snapped open to come face-to-face with the very, very solid expanse of Captain America’s chest.

“Gah!” He scrambled away, and Steve cackled at him.

“Figures that you’d be a cuddler,” he said, shaking his head in amusement, and Tony flushed, mortified.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said haughtily. “I’m _not_ a cuddler. That’s slander, and I will not have that kind of lie being spread about me.” He pointed a warning finger at Steve accusatorily. Steve had pushed himself up so he was sitting, grinning with an amused fondness.

“I dunno, the drool on my shirt looks a little like proof to me.”

“I do _not_ drool!” Tony squawked, deliberately ignoring the incriminating damp area on Steve’s annoyingly muscular right pec. 

“Well, I wonder how that got there, then,” Steve said innocently, indicating the damp patch. “I could always go ask the spy twins, they’re pretty good at solving mysteries.” He made to get out of bed, and Tony lunged at him, half-tackling him to the side.

“Don’t you dare!”

And Steve was laughing, a sound so gorgeous that Tony wished he could bottle it, and then they were wrestling, and Tony squeaked (though he would deny it to his dying day) as they tumbled off the bed and onto the floor, then continued their wrestling match.

“Boys.” Natasha’s voice sounded from the doorway, and Tony and Steve popped their heads up over the side of the bed to see Clint and Natasha both hovering at the entrance to their room. Natasha was looking at them with one eyebrow raised in judgment, and Clint looked like Christmas had come early.

“Did you two finally get your heads out of your asses? We’ve been waiting on this moment for _aaaages_! We didn’t mean to interrupt – “

Clint was cut off by a savage elbow to the side from Natasha as Tony looked at him in confusion. But before Tony could ask, Natasha said calmly, “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. If you want any, I’d suggest getting there before Thor.”

And then the spy twins sashayed away, leaving Tony staring after them until he shrugged. “Guess we better get going, then,” Tony said, turning to look at Steve with a smirk, only to see Steve gazing at him with an inscrutable expression. “What, do I have something on my face?” Tony asked, rubbing at it self-consciously.

“No, no, your face is fine,” Steve said quickly, the expression disappearing as though it had never been there, then turning mischievous. “Or as fine as it can be, I guess.”

He stood up quickly, which had the added bonus of knocking Tony on his ass as Tony called after him, “I’ll have you know that means it’s _very fine_. Like, the finest in this house!”

Ugh, he got no respect around here.

Breakfast was mostly uneventful, with Natasha threatening to stab Clint if he hogged the syrup, Thor breaking a few plates, and Bruce and Tony being near-catatonic until they’d consumed about eight cups of coffee each, as per the norm, and the rest of the day passed much the same. Steve had apparently decided today was going to be a lazy day, so they tugged out some board games that Bruce had brought and settled in.

Tony crushed everyone at Monopoly as Natasha muttered Russian invectives under her breath and Clint threatened him with a butter knife and accused him of cheating. (Thor was the first one out, to no one’s surprise, though he protested loudly that it was only because he didn’t understand Midgardian currency.) Natasha and Clint dominated at charades, with Bruce and Tony in a relatively close second, and Thor and Steve in a very distant third – though, to be fair, one of them wasn’t from this realm and the other had missed the past 70 years. 

As dusk fell, Bruce suggested they transition to hot chocolate and a Christmas movie, a proposal that was met with extreme enthusiasm and approval by Clint and Thor. Thor all but sprinted to the kitchen in his excitement over ‘the delightful Midgardian beverage that warms one from the inside’ with Bruce trailing exasperatedly behind to keep him from blowing anything up.

“Hey, how come there are no Christmas decorations in here?” Clint asked while they waited on ~~Thor~~ Bruce to make their hot chocolate, glancing around, and Tony shrugged.

“I think there’s some in the attic, but I don’t come out here often,” he responded, and Clint pouted.

“It’s not Christmas without decorations!” he declared, but Tony just shrugged and the subject matter was dropped.

Tony didn’t think anything else of it as they all settled in to watch “Home Alone,” sprawled out on the couches and sipping hot chocolate. In the dark, he didn’t even notice Clint was missing, until – 

“Four!”

An arrow whizzed through the air, burying itself in the rafters, and the team was on its feet in seconds. The lights flicked on, and the group stared up to see Hawkeye perched on the second story balcony, bow in one hand and a cord in the other. No, not a cord, those were _Christmas lights_.

“Wrong sport, Clint,” Bruce called mildly.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony asked at the same time, bewildered.

“It’s not my fault that golf gets to yell something cool and archery doesn’t,” Clint said defensively. “And what does it look like I’m doing? I’m decorating for Christmas!”

“By defacing my property?”

“Hey, no, these are the sticky arrows, not the pointy ones! Your property will be fine,” Clint reassured him. Tony was not very reassured.

“What are these decorations you speak of, friend Clinton?” Thor asked, eyes suddenly gleaming eagerly, and Tony had a bad feeling.

“They’re Christmas decorations! Like, lights and trees and ornaments and wreaths and shit. They’re to make the place more festive! C’mon, guys, there’s a ton of awesome stuff up here – we should deck this place out! Get in the Christmas spirit!”

Absolutely not happening

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Steve said with a small smile.

Okay, maybe it was happening.

And that was how a Norse god, two spies who could kill him with one strand of tinsel, Captain America, and a man who spent some of his time as a giant green rage monster ended up decorating his cabin for Christmas.

Thor got most excited for the tree, loudly booming that it was a tree worthy of the halls of Asgard’s palace as he and Bruce set it up, decorating with the gold, red, and green ornaments. Natasha ended up in charge of the wreaths, and Tony was very decidedly not going to ask how she got them into some of the locations. Clint continued to wrap the string lights around every wrappable surface he could find, which left Tony and Steve in charge of winding the garland around the banister of the staircase and decorating it.

“You know, this reminds me a lot of those Christmas ads I used to see pasted on store windows,” Steve commented thoughtfully as they decorated, and Tony cocked his head, an invitation to continue. “We couldn’t really afford to decorate like this, Ma and I,” he explained. “But sometimes I’d come across posters advertising Christmas decorations and such, and they’d show a place that looked an awful lot like this. Warm, homey, decorated to the nines.” Steve smiled, and Tony was entranced. “It’s nice, is all.”

“Mom always liked to have our place decorated for Christmas,” Tony said, not sure where the words were coming from. Steve was looking at him intently now, blue eyes focused on his; Tony did _not_ talk about his parents _ever_. But the words continued to pour out of him. “She didn’t want to do the decorating though, she just wanted to enjoy the final result. Well, and show off to people when she hosted for parties. She always had the maids do the decorating. Jarvis let me help sometimes, though, when he could get away with it. My favorite part was when he’d lift me up and let me put the star on top of the Christmas tree. Felt like a Hallmark movie or something, like I could really feel the Christmas spirit.”

Tony ducked his head, embarrassed at the hokey sentiment, but Steve just said warmly, “That sounds really nice, Tony.” And Tony looked up and smiled at him, dazzled when Steve smiled back.

Their moment was broken, of course, by Clint.

“Oooooh, look who’s under the mistletoe!” Clint crowed, and the sheer delight in his tone gave Tony a sinking feeling. He looked up. He and Steve had made it to the top of the staircase with their garland decorating and there, hovering right above them oh-so-innocently, was mistletoe that someone (cough, Clint) had deviously hung.

He yanked his eyes down to meet Steve’s who was gazing back at him nervously. Distantly, he heard Thor ask, “What is the meaning of this mistletoe?” and heard Bruce answer him. Clint started chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” while Natasha’s judgmental, expectant silence rang through the air. But Tony just focused on Steve.

“Uh, we don’t have to – I mean, I’m sure I can get them to back off,” Steve said awkwardly, fidgeting and suddenly unable to meet Tony’s eye. And Tony’s heart dropped. Of course, Steve wouldn’t want to. And he wouldn’t want to either, not like this. Not when it didn’t mean what he wanted it to mean.

“Right, uh, that’s probably for the best. Team dynamics and all,” Tony said just as awkwardly, hoping he was keeping the strain out of his tone. “Plus, you know, your whole not-being-into-guys thing.” 

Steve’s eyes snapped up to meet his, confused, brow furrowed. “What? What makes you think I’m not into guys?”

And now Tony was blinking, off-balance, peering up at him. “Uh. I mean, I’ve heard the stories – you and Peggy Carter?”

Steve frowned. “Well, yeah, but don’t you have a term for that now? Bisexual? I’m pretty sure someone briefed me on that in all the cultural updates I got.” Steve shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn’t know that’s what I was growing up and all, but I always had an eye for both the men and the dames.”

Tony gaped at him. “Wait, really?”

Steve stared at him incredulously. “You really didn’t know?”

“How was I supposed to know?”

And then Steve was giving him this _look_ , simultaneously vulnerable and unreadable, and suddenly Tony _got it_.

“ _Me?_ ” Tony gasped, shocked, and now Steve’s eyes were wide and panicked, but Tony was having a moment of panic of his own. “Oh my god, Cap, you have to know what a bad idea that is. I mean, you’re _you_ , and I’m – “

“One of the kindest, most generous, most selfless people I’ve ever met,” Steve interrupted, then smiled slightly. “And also a giant asshole.” Tony squawked indignantly, and Steve’s smile widened. “It’s okay, I happen to like assholes.”

Tony manfully repressed an innuendo. Seriously, people should be awarding him medals for not taking advantage of the very obvious one there. But then Steve’s expression dropped again. “Look, this doesn’t have to change anything. I didn’t mean for you to even find out, I’m sorry, I – “

“Steve, Jesus, shut up,” Tony cut in, feeling like Christmas, close as it was, had come early. And also like he was a complete idiot for not having seen this earlier. His heart was lighter, buoyant, and he felt almost giddy with this newfound knowledge. Steve fell silent, looking at him like he expected an axe to fall at any moment, and Tony took a moment, searching for the right words, then decided _fuck it_ \- 

And he planted one on Captain America.

Well, no. He planted one on Steve Rogers, the man he’d been progressively falling for since the day they’d met. The man who was way too cheery in the mornings, who was an excellent breakfast cook but burned literally everything else, who sat in his lab and drew in his sketchbook for hours without complaining about the volume of Tony’s music, who had taken like a duck to water to the future and all the opportunities it presented. Who was his childhood hero, but was _so much more_ than that. Whose smile put the sun to shame.

Someone (Tony suspected Clint) wolf-whistled, and Tony drew back, waiting for a reaction. Steve just looked at him, shocked and red-faced.

“You – you – “ he stuttered, and Tony grinned brightly, happily.

“Yes, you dumbass, I like you too. God, I feel like a third grader saying that,” Tony muttered the second part mostly to himself, but then he was distracted by Steve’s sudden bright beaming smile.

“You do?”

“I do.”

And Steve just kept smiling at him, expression suddenly hopeful. “Go steady with me?”

“Nobody says ‘go steady’ anymore, Jesus, I’m dating a grandpa.”

“Is that a yes?”

Tony paused, rolling his eyes, though his smile felt permanently etched on his face. “It’s a yes.”

Clint whooped, and there was clapping, and when Tony turned, Steve’s arm snaking around his waist, it was Natasha and Bruce, the former looking unimpressed and the latter appearing pleased. Thor was lifting one arm triumphantly, and thunder crashed in the distance.

“ _Finally_ ,” Clint groaned. “The sexual tension was getting _unbearable_.”

“Were we that obvious?” Steve murmured to him.

“ _Yes_ ,” Natasha called exasperatedly, and Tony snickered.

“Well, we’re about to get a whole lot more _obvious_ ,” Tony called back, voice dripping with innuendo, and the team groaned as Steve tugged him closer, laughing and pressing a kiss to his cheek to the retches of their teammates.

It was a perfect Christmas.


End file.
